


Neio

by QueenofWitchBlood



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Drowning, Gen, hooo boy, pretty graphic descriptions of drowning and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 14:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16177379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofWitchBlood/pseuds/QueenofWitchBlood
Summary: I had a discussion a while back about a possible OC I’d created that was basically a water Sylvari. We knew there was at least 1 other Sylvatree [Malyck’s tree lmao] and after HoT we know that there are many many more than we first suspected. This is basically a playful headcanon that I can’t let go anymore bc I love this Sylvari now. His tree is basically either half in half out of water OR has somehow managed to grow from/in water.I did create him and his name is Neioven and...... he's kinda fucked up tbh





	Neio

His first memory was awakening. 

The cold water burned inside him and numbed his arms as he struggled to escaped his pod. Heavy, water logged, how could he have expected to survive. 

No one came to help him from the pod. No one knew he’d clawed out of the watered plant sack and into the cold, the wet. Skin supple, soft, slipping easily through the water as he continued to struggle. 

Eyes opened to darkness, water flooding his mouth, breathing it in. 

He had realised that he was dying. Awakened only to die in the cold, wet, dark. Algae curled around his limbs like a mother cradling her newborn, pulling him closer, whispers in the water of safety. 

He’d lain back, letting the water consume him, had felt the algae tendrils curl around his chest and dig deep, splitting into him as easily as a sword to flesh, letting his golden blood soak into the water.

His tree whispered to him, slumbering siblings both up high and deep below him, calling to him to relax, shut his eyes, allow them to help.

He had awoken again, to his second memory, laying on wet earth. Swamp scent cloying his nose, he still couldn’t breathe. Panic at the silence in his head as he groped at the splits in his chest, digging out the mud that clogged them. He gulped the humid air of the jungle, greedily, eyes shutting and mouth open.

Air, breath, breathing, life, his life, he was alive. His fingers dug deep in the mud surrounding him, squelching between his thick fingers as he continued to simply breathe. 

The silence in his head continued. He felt empty, alone, afraid. Slowly, he gathered to his feet, eyes opening once again to take in the brightness of the upper world. 

‘ _Neio…_ ’ They, it, she called. His head whipping around as he tried to find her, follow her voice back to home. ‘ _Neio_ …’ His name called, again, but he cannot find her in the wildlife around him. He shakes, hesitating, looking back to the water then to the jungle. ‘ _Go, my Neio._ ’ He obeys.

He spends days wandering, wading through the jungle, and he grows. Grows bigger till his skin begins to crack and breathing becomes painful again. So he enters the water.

It invites him, caresses him and soothes the pain, tells him the best places to hunt food, to feast so he does not starve. He breathes as the waves move and he is home. When he has filled and he has grown more, he returns to the land, continues wandering.

He spends much time growing, becoming bigger, taller than the strange blue, red, green, large and small creatures with the slimy skin that run when they see him. He does not understand until he meets a cousin.

It is large and screams at him, throwing insects that sting and bite and leave him itching for long after he escapes. There are more now. Others that ride creatures that hunger for his flesh and hunt him till the waters edges. He does not wander on land much anymore.

The water is his home, his security and now, his weapon. He first realised the others could not breathe in the water as he could when one was foolish enough to chase him into his home. The algae had snatched it up, crushed it as it struggled despite its crooning words and soft reassurances. Soon, if they hunted him, he struck back, chasing them off from his home if they strayed too close, taking them to the deepest crevasses and leaving them there. 

‘ _Neio._..’ They, it, she called. He shut his eyes, basking in the comfort brought by the voices. ‘ _Neio, my Neio, you must protect yourself,_ ’ They murmured, the water rocking around him as algae brush against his skin, intertwining with his hair. It had grown as long as he was tall, and he found himself having to tie it up himself when on land. ‘ _You cannot let them take you from this world, my Neio_.’ 

He would not. He would not let the others in this jungle bring him before that which seeks to take what he is. He dreamed of the forest and the hunger inside it, the hunger inside all his siblings, cousins, more.

The water consumed and gave to the Jungle. The Jungle consumed and gave to the water. It is how it is in the watchful eye of the hunger. 

And he will not let either consume him.


End file.
